


A Bridge Too Far

by enigmaticblue



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Community: sentinel_thurs, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-01
Updated: 2012-05-01
Packaged: 2017-11-04 16:25:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/395829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enigmaticblue/pseuds/enigmaticblue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes Blair has a hard time saying no.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Bridge Too Far

**Author's Note:**

> Written for sentinel_thurs challenge #434, "bridge".

Jim’s day has been long, frustrating, and fruitless. The suspects he’d interrogated hadn’t cracked, the warrant he’d asked for hadn’t been issued, and he’d started the day out with a headache, which has only grown worse.

 

And then, he arrives home to find the elevator out of order, which is just icing on the cake.

 

He wearily climbs the stairs, thinking of the hot meal—or at least the leftovers—waiting for him. It’s Sandburg’s turn to cook, which might mean tofu, but Jim doesn’t care tonight; he’s that hungry and that tired.

 

The loft is dark and quiet when Jim enters, though, and he sighs. He probably shouldn’t be surprised; Sandburg has been burning the candle at both ends over the last week. He’d bet his next paycheck that Blair will come running in, apologizing profusely, with some story about how he hadn’t been able to get away.

 

Jim feels a surge of anger, and quickly throttles it. It’s not like Sandburg is getting paid for his time at the station, and there have been a few dinners Jim was supposed to cook that had been lost to stakeouts or an emergency at the station. That’s just the nature of the job.

 

Sandburg is busy—and maybe he’s been too busy for Jim this past week, but that will change as soon as the semester is over.

 

Jim stares into the fridge, wondering if he can find enough food to quell his growling stomach, or if he should just call for pizza or Chinese. There’s a Chinese place fairly close by that will deliver quickly.

 

Sandburg bursts into the loft in a blur of motion—par for the course, really.

 

“Jim, man, I’m sorry. I know it’s my night to cook, but I grabbed a sandwich from the deli you like.” He drops a bag on the counter. “I was going to bring it by the station, but when I called, they said you’d just left. You haven’t eaten yet, have you?”

 

“I was considering my options,” Jim admits.

 

Sandburg is still rushing around with his backpack over one shoulder, and Jim frowns. “Aren’t you staying?”

 

“Can’t,” Sandburg says loudly from his room. “I have a late study session at the U.”

 

“You could have just called and told me that you weren’t going to be home for dinner,” Jim points out.

 

“And have you risk an early heart attack by eating Wonder Burger for lunch _and_ dinner?” Sandburg says. “No way, man. Besides, like I said, it was my turn to cook.”

 

Jim opens the sack. “You going to sleep any time this year?”

 

“Probably not before the end of the semester,” Sandburg replies with a weary smile, heading for the door.

 

“Did you eat?” Jim calls to his retreating back, and sighs when Sandburg just waves and retreats.

 

Jim peels the paper away from his sandwich and shakes his head when he sees roast beef and cheddar on wheat. “Good compromise, Sandburg,” he says to the empty loft, and takes a bite.

 

~~~~~

 

Jim’s aware that Sandburg doesn’t come home that night, although when he shows up at the station mid-morning, he’s changed clothes.

 

“Did you stop by the loft?” Jim asks.

 

“Yeah, I caught a power nap,” Sandburg says easily, although the dark circles under his eyes suggest that hadn’t been enough sleep.

 

Jim sighs. “Look, Chief, I’m okay here. Go home, get some sleep.”

 

“If I’m not here, I’m at the U,” Sandburg says quickly. “And I need a break.”

 

Sandburg calls _him_ stubborn, but Jim knows he’s got nothing on Blair. Jim will actually tell someone that he isn’t going to do something, which Sandburg always takes as an opportunity to convince him otherwise. Sandburg, on the other hand, seems like he’s going along with whatever plan someone proposes, and then he does just what he wants to do anyway.

 

Still, Jim knows better than to take Sandburg out in the field in his condition, and he has some paperwork to finish up. “I’ve got reports to write,” Jim says. “So, if you want to get something done, you’ve got the time.”

 

“What?” Sandburg asks archly. “You don’t want me to write your reports for you?”

 

“Considering you haven’t been around to know what they should say, I think Simon’s going to have to make do with my writing, even if he does like yours better.” Jim adds the last bit to soften the blow of the first sentence.

 

Blair flinches. “Man, I’m sorry. Things have just been really busy.”

 

Jim pushes down his irritation and hurt—mostly. “Chief. It’s the end of the semester. I get it. But you look like you haven’t slept in days, and I’m waiting on a warrant, so I’m doing reports. You can do whatever you please.”

 

He thinks, but doesn’t add, “You will anyway.”

 

Sandburg’s always been good at hearing what Jim _doesn’t_ say, though, and he stands. “Well, if that’s the case, I’ve got a few things to do. Don’t wait up for me.”

 

Jim wishes he’d handled that better, but he’s so twisted up right now with hurt and jealousy and worry that he isn’t sure he’d know what the right response would be if it bit him on the ass.

 

His warrant comes through that afternoon, and he takes Brown and Rafe with him to execute it, since Simon insists that he not go by himself. They run the search by the book and find the drugs they’re looking for, thanks to Jim’s superior nose.

 

In short, it’s a pretty decent day, other than the massive headache, and the breach with his guide.

 

That night, Jim grabs takeout from his favorite Thai place, making sure he has enough for Sandburg if he deigns to come home.

 

Sandburg _doesn’t_ come home, though, and Jim reminds himself that he’s not Sandburg’s mother. If his roommate wants to burn the candle at both ends, that’s _his_ problem, as Sandburg had reminded him this afternoon.

 

Jim’s tired enough to sleep through the night, but when he wakes the next morning a few minutes before his alarm is scheduled to go off, he immediately tunes into Sandburg’s heartbeat.

 

He shuts off the alarm and heads downstairs to shower and start breakfast. If today is like the last week, Sandburg is going to wake up and be raring to go.

 

Well, “raring” might be overstating it, because Sandburg stumbles out of his room, bleary-eyed and wild haired. Jim puts a cup of coffee in his hands. “You got time for breakfast?”

 

“Probably not,” he admits. “But I’m hungry.”

 

“Sit tight,” Jim advises. “I’ll have breakfast ready in a jiffy.”

 

“Thank you,” Sandburg says fervently. “I’m sorry I haven’t been around.”

 

“Don’t worry about it,” Jim says. It’s easy to feel magnanimous when Blair looks this strung out. “What have you got going on today?”

 

“Don’t ask,” Blair advises wearily. “It’s a combination of the number of favors I owe people for covering for me and me not being able to say no.”

 

Jim shrugs. “So, start saying no, starting with coming into the station. Don’t bother until you’ve got some time free. You need sleep.”

 

“No time,” Blair replies, digging into the eggs and toast Jim’s made. “But I’ll take the food and thank you for it.”

 

Jim has to get to the station, and he says, “There are leftovers in the fridge if you want them. I made sure to get extra. Seriously, Chief. Don’t bother coming in until you’ve slept.”

 

Blair manages a smile. “Thanks, man. One less thing on my list, you know?”

 

~~~~~

 

Jim spends another day without Sandburg and decides he doesn’t like it a bit. He feels for the guy, and he knows it’s selfish, but the sooner Sandburg finishes up at Rainier, the sooner Jim gets his partner back.

 

And the sooner he can stop worrying about Sandburg’s well being, the better, for a whole host of reasons, both selfish and not.

 

He’s worried enough that he doesn’t even bother going to bed, staying up on the couch, watching reruns and infomercials until well after midnight, when Sandburg finally gets home.

 

“Jim. You’re still up.” The words slur together, telling Jim just how tired his roommate is.

 

“Yeah, I am, because I was worried.” Jim rises and grabs Sandburg’s pack, since he’s standing just inside the doorway, the backpack still over his shoulder. “You’re sleeping in tomorrow.”

 

“Can’t,” Sandburg says, not moving from his spot. “I’ve got a study group early.”

 

Jim sighs. “Fine, but you’re getting some sleep tomorrow if I have to tie you to the bed.”

 

“Promises, promises,” Sandburg mutters, but Jim can’t take him seriously.

 

“I can promise it won’t be pleasant,” Jim replies. “Remember, I’ve got tomorrow off, and I can carry out that threat.”

 

Sandburg groans. “God, I wish I did. Just one day.”

 

“Go to bed,” Jim orders, nudging Sandburg towards his room. “Sleep.”

 

“If I can,” Sandburg mutters, but he goes.

 

Jim watches him disappear, and then makes a quick decision. If Sandburg can’t say no, Jim has no problem doing it for him.

 

~~~~~

 

Sandburg is gone the next morning before Jim manages to haul himself out of bed, but that just cements his intentions. Sandburg is quick enough to tell Jim when he’s overreaching, and Jim figures he can return the favor.

 

He spends the morning grocery shopping and the afternoon making lasagna because he feels like it. Besides, it will make for good leftovers.

 

And if Sandburg ever comes back to the loft, he’ll appreciate it.

 

Of course, Sandburg doesn’t come home that night, and he’s still not there when Jim leaves for the station the next morning. Jim tries not to feel _too_ resentful the following day as he does half a dozen things that would have been a hell of a lot easier with Sandburg around.

 

Not that Jim has any intention of mentioning that fact. He hates needing anybody, and he figures Sandburg already has a good idea of how much Jim needs him.

 

Jim spends another night wondering where his guide is, and another day wishing that Sandburg would just be done already. He half-regrets that he told Sandburg not to bother coming into the station, because he doesn’t have an excuse to check up on him now.

 

That night, he eats leftover lasagna, and is finishing a glass of wine when Blair comes home, looking dead on his feet. “Hey,” he manages.

 

“You okay?” Jim asks. “Are you hungry?”

 

“Too tired to be hungry,” Sandburg admits. “But the last final was today, and I’ve got a few days to grade papers.”

 

The phone rings, and Sandburg winces. “Damn,” he mutters just before he picks it up.

 

With Jim’s hearing, it’s easy to listen in on both sides of the conversation. “Please, Blair,” he hears. “I really need someone to proctor the test for me tomorrow.”

 

Sandburg likes to tease Jim about his imperative to protect people—particularly his guide—but it doesn’t feel like a joke right now. And he can sense Sandburg softening, even though he doesn’t have any business doing anything other than catching up on all that missed sleep.

 

So, Jim takes the problem out of Sandburg’s hands by plucking the phone from his grip and saying firmly, “Sorry, but Blair’s booked solid,” before he hangs up.

 

Sandburg stares at him with wide eyes. “Jim! You can’t do that!”

 

“Sure I can,” Jim replies easily. “That was a bridge too far, Chief. You need to sleep sometime, and if you won’t say no, I’ll do it for you.”

 

He can see the anger warring with relief, and Jim decides to bypass the anger by asking, “You want some lasagna? And a glass of wine?”

 

“God, yes,” Sandburg says fervently, dropping everything on the floor. “Thanks, man.”

 

Jim knows Sandburg is thanking him for more than the food and the alcohol, and he says, “Hey, you’re always there to pull me back from the brink, aren’t you?”

 

“I try,” Sandburg replies, resting his chin on his hands. “I haven’t been around recently to do that, though.”

 

“No big deal,” Jim assures him. “I’ll always let you know when you’re overreaching.”

 

Sandburg rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling. “Yeah, whatever, man. Now, how about that lasagna?”

 

And Jim serves him, because he doesn’t mind, and because he knows Sandburg is going to get a decent night’s sleep for a change.

 

That’s what they do for each other, after all. Sandburg pulls Jim back before he goes too far, and Jim’s happy to do the same, even if Sandburg doesn’t think he needs it.

 

What else are friends for?


End file.
